Sentimental Values
by LazyPanther
Summary: Frank and Joe disagree on the importance of sentimental value. Originally posted at the HDA for the June 2009 Story Challenge


**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own the Hardy Boys and I'm not making any money from this.

**AN:** So… this is actually a story I wrote a few years ago for the JUNE 2009 SO YOU THINK YOU'RE A WRITER STORY CHALLENGE: "AND NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY" at the Hardy Detective Agency website. (If you've never been there, you should check it out!) Somehow, it won 3rd place in the contest. Still trying to figure out how it made it that far…

Here was the prompt: _"Joe," Frank said cautiously as he looked at the shiny metallic object being held in his brother's hand. "Just what do you think you're doing with those handcuffs?"_

The challenge was to incorporate this into a story. I waited until the last day to write this and submitted it literally minutes after the deadline but the HDA graciously accepted it anyway. The requirements for entering the contest meant we couldn't post the contest stories anywhere but at the HDA website for a year so that's why I never posted it here before. And then when I reread it I decided I didn't like it. So this is a slightly revised version of the one I originally submitted to the HDA… and I still don't quite like it but it will do.

**SPOILERS: **Spoilers for the Casefiles # 1 Dead on Target and very slight, insignificant spoilers for the SuperMystery titled Shock Waves. (No Nancy this time, though.) Though I think pretty much everyone already knows what happened.

* * *

It seemed like all of their vacations ended up with someone trying to kill them, Joe Hardy mused darkly. Sometimes Joe got pretty sick of it. This was one of those times.

They had only planned on stopping overnight at this little blink-and-you'll-miss-it town on their way to Phoenix. But, like always, they had managed to stumble into something suspicious. While eating in a diner, Joe had overheard a man at the next table say something to about "getting even" and "blowing them all away". Most people would dismiss it as crazy talk or exaggerated figures of speech but not the Hardy brothers.

After the local police quickly dismissed their concerns, they had decided to increase their stay by a couple of days to do a little sleuthing on their own. Good thing, too, because the man in the diner turned out to be an unbalanced, laid-off security guard who was busy planning revenge against his former employers. Larry Coleman had set up shop in an abandoned cotton gin, and Frank and Joe had been able to piece the puzzle together quickly enough to discover his plans on their last day in town.

Unfortunately, Coleman was ready for them when they invaded his space. The encounter ended with Frank held at gunpoint and Joe reeling from a blow to the head. After tying them both up with some nearby rope and locking them in an empty storage room, Coleman left them to search for their rental car.

And that's how Joe now found himself lying on the dusty floor with the mother of all headaches waging war inside his skull. Rustling noises to his left indicated Frank was already working at getting free.

"Joe, you okay?" Frank's words were a bit garbled as he voiced his question while using his teeth to pull at the knot around his hands.

"My head's killing me but at least I'm not seeing stars anymore," Joe groaned. Actually, he couldn't see much of anything at the moment. He blinked against the thick gloom surrounding them in the windowless closet but it didn't make any difference.

"Think you're up for helping me get the drop on him when he comes back?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Joe winced but managed to sit up and start working on the ropes restraining his own hands and feet. Luckily for them, Larry Coleman wasn't the brightest of criminals. Not only had he tied their hands in front of them, but he also didn't know how to tie a proper knot.

"He won't be gone too long. He was going to look for where we parked the car and grab all our stuff out of it. Then he's going to come back and set everything up for the cops to find. We can surprise him when he opens the door to get us. It's probably our best shot," Frank explained. He wasn't sure how much of the madman's conversation Joe had heard after he had been hit.

"Sounds like a plan," Joe grunted. The ropes on his feet were no problem but the one around his wrists was proving a little more difficult. The pounding in his brain didn't exactly help his concentration either.

"Got it!" Frank exclaimed lowly. He immediately jumped up and tried to find his brother in the dark. "Need help?"

"No, I got it," Joe insisted as he continued to strain against the ties. "Hey, watch it!" he complained when Frank's groping hand suddenly smacked into his face.

"Sorry," Frank said as he bent down to assist his brother. After fumbling for a moment, he found Joe's tied hands and started working on the knot.

"I said I got it," Joe grumbled halfheartedly. Frank ignored him and within a few seconds the ropes fell away.

"Can you stand up?" Frank asked concernedly. Joe nodded reflexively, forgetting Frank couldn't see him, and used Frank's arm to pull himself up to his feet. The pounding increased at first but slowly receded to a bearable throb.

"Joe?"

"I'm fine. Let's get ready for this guy. Where do you want me?"

Several minutes later the brothers could hear rustling and scraping sounds as Coleman dragged in their bags from the car and began staging the scene to make it appear that Frank and Joe had been using the place rather than Coleman. It seemed to take him forever but finally the brothers heard footsteps approach the door.

"Okay, boys, time for you to – ugh!" Coleman didn't have time to react when the door he'd just pushed open suddenly swung back into his face. He managed to bring his hands back up in time to catch the door Joe pushed but he wasn't able to block the punch Frank aimed at his jaw. A brief scuffle later, Coleman was out cold on the floor with the Hardys standing over him.

"Not so tough without your gun, are you?" Joe sneered at the prone ex-security guard.

Frank sighed, relieved that the tables were turned, but then froze as he spotted something on the far side of the room.

"Joe."

Immediately alert at his brother's tone of urgency, Joe's eyes darted around the room before landing on the same glowing red numbers that Frank had seen - glowing red numbers that were slowly counting down from twenty-two minutes.

"He set the bomb up already." Frank calmly stated the obvious, though his shoulders were tight with unease. "We need to get out. Now."

"Can't you just disarm it?" Joe asked nervously.

"Do I look like the bomb squad to you? I have no idea how this guy works. For all I know he's booby-trapped it." Frank swiftly walked over to Coleman's limp from. "It's safer for us to just get away and let the cops handle it. Come on, let's go."

Joe quickly searched the crowded tables and countertops around the room and found the cell phones that Coleman had lifted from them earlier. Next to the phones was the bag with Coleman's supplies for his second bomb, the one he had been planning on setting off in the town's busy mall. Two pairs of handcuffs nestled next to a fake security badge caught Joe's eye and he impulsively pocketed the handcuffs along with the phones. Then he started toward his brother before he suddenly remembered their duffel bags dumped carelessly in the corner… and what was in one of those duffel bags.

He didn't take the time to think. Joe rushed over to the duffel bags and began rifling through his.

"What are you doing? Just leave it!" Frank shouted in disbelief. He was becoming increasing impatient with his brother's delays and kept glancing toward the bomb anxiously. Eighteen minutes.

Joe ignored Frank and started opening zippers and compartments in his blue duffel bag, searching. He cursed his own sloppiness as he started digging through the tangle of clean and dirty clothes.

"Joe! C'mon! Help me get this guy out of here!" Frank yelled over his shoulder at his younger brother as he bent down to pick up the unconscious man's upper half.

Joe continued his search, feeling his pulse begin to race as he frantically sifted through his things.

"Frank, just give me a minute –"

"We may not have a minute, Joe! This guy's an amateur. Just because he tried using a timer doesn't mean it won't go off sooner than that. Forget our stuff, we have to leave! Get over here NOW!" Frank commanded, staring Joe down.

Joe glanced at the bomb. Less than fifteen minutes.

Joe gritted his teeth in frustration but finally pulled himself away to help Frank pick up the large man. He grabbed the man's legs in a firm grip and together he and Frank carried the would-be murderer out of the dilapidated building and toward the chain link fence that surrounded the property with the intention to stop trespassers. Coleman's old car was on the other side of the fence and it took them a minute or two to cover the distance with their heavy burden. Their rental car was nowhere in sight, probably hidden behind the building by Coleman.

Frank failed to notice the calculating looks Joe kept stealing back toward the abandoned gin.

When they got Coleman through the cut section of fence and to the car, Frank opened the back door and they laid the man down across the cracked vinyl seat.

"We have anything to tie him up with? I didn't where a belt today," Frank asked, checking to make sure their prisoner was still completely unconscious.

Joe jerked his gaze away from the building they'd fled to stare at the back of Frank's head. He reached into his coat pocket and fingered the two pairs of handcuffs he had picked up.

"Yeah. I grabbed these 'cuffs from his little bag of tricks, just in case." He pulled out both pairs of handcuffs and handed one pair to Frank, who was already reaching out for them expectantly before Joe even finished his sentence. Frank used the handcuffs to restrain Coleman's hands behind his back.

"Good thinking, Joe. Okay, quick, let's get this guy secured and then call the police before…" Frank trailed off uneasily when he saw the strange look his brother was giving him.

"Joe," Frank said cautiously as he looked at the shiny metallic object being held in his brother's hand. "Just what do you think you're doing with those handcuffs?"

Joe blinked at Frank and then cast a long look back in the direction they had come.

"I'll get his legs. You call the police." Joe moved forward with the handcuffs ready, standing in the space between the open door and the body and leaving no room for Frank to stand up from his crouching position. Frank narrowed his eyes in concern and suspicion but took the phone Joe handed to him, watching Joe closely for a second before looking down to dial the number.

As soon as Frank's eyes were off of him, Joe made his move. In one smooth motion, he threw his arm out, clicked one cuff around his brother's right wrist, and pushed Frank's arm down so he could lock the other cuff around the solid metal door handle. It only took a couple of seconds and by the time Frank realized what Joe was doing it was too late to fight back.

"Hey! What – Joe, what are you doing?" Frank was too shocked to be angry. He jumped up and pulled against the handcuffs a few times with no success. Joe backed away, quickly getting out of reach before Frank could grab him. His face showed regret but he made no move to release his brother, despite Frank's increasingly forceful demands.

"I'm sorry, Frank, but there's something I have to get out of that building. You wouldn't understand," Joe stated calmly, voice shaking only slightly, as he continued backing up.

Frank stopped mid-yell and gaped at his brother as his face went white.

"WHAT! Joe, you can't go back in there! Are you crazy? That thing could blow any second! What could possibly be worth going back? Don't you dare, Joe, don't you dare go back in there!" By now, Frank was frantically yanking at the handcuffs, trying in vain to get the handle to loosen while never taking his eyes off of his retreating brother.

Joe gave him one more look before he turned his back.

"Joe, don't do this!"

Joe ignored him. Frank switched tactics.

"Joe, _please_! Come back! _Please_!"

Joe squeezed through the fence and took off at a run. He didn't look back.

* * *

It was dark and deceptively quiet inside the forsaken gin house as Joe ran around the machinery toward the rooms at the back of the building that once served as offices and storerooms. He pointedly ignored the muted sound of his brother's distressed pleas echoing from outside. Nothing was going to stop him from doing this, not even his beloved older brother. On some level he knew it was stupid and risky but he ignored that thought as well. This was something he just had to do, whether anyone else got it or not.

Joe barreled into the room they had just recently vacated and made a beeline for their scattered belongings. One quick look was enough to show him that he would be better off just taking everything with him than trying to search for one object in the mess of clothes, toiletries, and souvenirs. And just in case their things had gotten mixed up in their hurry to pack this morning… he decided to grab Frank's bag too. Swiftly, he stuffed his bag full and zipped it shut. It took him several precious seconds to do this but if he was lucky (and Joe really, really hoped he was) he would still have plenty of time to get out and back to the car - the car that currently had a doubtlessly irate individual attached to it.

Joe winced. That wasn't a reunion he was looking forward to…

As soon as he felt he had a firm grip on his load, Joe took off at a near run for the exit. Now that he had what he came for, the need to be as far away from this place as possible became suddenly pressing. Heart pounding against his chest, he charged forward, dodging machinery and feeling like he was trapped in one of those hellish nightmares that consisted of running full-force and getting absolutely nowhere. Finally, Joe reached the door – and almost got his face smashed in when said door crashed open without warning.

At the sight of Joe standing mere feet in front of him, the look on Frank's face instantly went from frantic worry to surprised relief. Joe was pretty sure his own face just registered shock. They stared at each other for a split second before Frank roughly reached out with his left hand, snagged Joe by the wrist, and bodily hauled him through the door. As they both started running again, Frank reached to take one of the bags. At first, Joe resisted, fearing Frank was going to simply throw the burden aside. But Frank got it away from him anyway and carried it with him instead. This made it easier for Joe to run and they were soon at the makeshift "gate" in the fence.

Joe was just squeezing himself through the opening after Frank and the duffel bags when he felt a searing blast of heat knock him down on his hands and knees. Behind them, the cotton gin was consumed with fire as scorched debris fell back to the ground, the dancing flames and black smoke in stark contrast to the clear blue sky above.

Joe heaved a shuddering breath as he stared at the blaze, knowing the bomb must have gone off at least a couple of minutes before it was due. Apparently, luck was on his side today. A relieved grin spread across his face and he turned to share the victory with his brother.

This didn't quite have the effect he'd desired.

Frank was sitting on the ground amongst their belongings with his long jean-clad legs stretched out before him and his right arm cradled against his stomach, staring blankly at the inferno. When he sensed Joe's gaze, his empty stare migrated to Joe's face. Joe's adrenaline induced smile froze and then faded as Frank's wide eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. It would seem that Frank possibly didn't return the exact sentiment.

"So… I guess Coleman's timing was a little off after all, huh?" Joe asked timidly, trying not to be cowed by his elder brother's admittedly intimidating glare.

Frank didn't respond, except to swallow hard and briefly close his eyes. Then suddenly he lurched to his feet and began stalking toward the car.

It was then that realization hit Joe. He had handcuffed Frank to the car. His eyes darted to the still open back door of Coleman's junker to notice that it was now missing a door handle. And the way Frank was cradling his right arm…

Joe felt concern and regret churn his stomach as he scrambled to get up and follow his brother.

"Frank, are you okay?" Joe reached gently for Frank's elbow and was stunned into silence when Frank viscously tore out of his grasp and turned on him. Joe just barely managed to jerk his head aside in time to absorb the open-handed slap that Frank landed across his face.

Fortunately, Frank had to use his weaker left hand and so the blow didn't have as much force behind it as it could have had. That didn't stop Joe's blue eyes from stinging slightly, though it was not entirely due to the physical pain. Frank had never hit him before, not even when they were young kids. Not like that at least, unprovoked and unchecked. Joe was so startled he couldn't even feel angry.

"Don't touch me," Frank snarled, his good hand now clenched into a fist. Joe's eyes widened in shock and hurt as he stepped back and forced his hand down from where it had instinctively risen to his cheek. Frank's normally warm brown eyes looked coal black compared to his pale face and his clenched jaw trembled with rage. He looked so much unlike Joe's usually composed and friendly big brother that it took a moment for Joe to stammer out a reply.

"Frank… look, I'm sorry. I know it was rotten of me –" Joe tried.

"You're 'sorry'?" Frank roared. "Joe, you cuffed me to a car and made me watch you run back into an about-to-explode-any-minute building! You – you just took off and left me standing here wondering if I was going to have a freakin' front row seat to your death! Without being able to do anything about it! I mean, what were you thinking? You think that was fun for me, Joe? You think I should just laugh it off?"

Frank was breathing heavily by the end of his rant and he'd stepped up into his younger brother's personal space, practically nose to nose.

Joe felt his blood begin to boil in response, even as guilt and remorse weighed heavily upon him. He struggled to keep his voice down.

"No, Frank. I don't think it was fun for you. And I am sorry. But I knew you wouldn't let me go back and I _had_ to go back in there. You just don't understand –"

Again, Frank interrupted him and Joe felt his self-restraint slipping away.

"I understand perfectly why you went back in there, Joe! You went back for those damn keys, didn't you?"

The anger seemed to drain out of Joe at the mention of Iola's keys.

"You knew?" he whispered. It had been almost a year since Iola had died and he still carried her melted keys with him wherever he went, though now in a little pouch rather than around his neck as he had at first. After they had been mistakenly stolen that one time in Texas a few months ago, he had tried to be more secretive about traveling with them but obviously Frank had still noticed.

Frank's face unexpectedly softened at his brother's reaction. He took a deep breath and clenched his eyes shut for a few seconds, clearly attempting to regain some self-control. Finally, he met Joe's eyes again.

"Yeah. I knew. Nothing else would make you pull a crazy stunt like that," Frank said as evenly as he could manage.

Joe implored him with his eyes to understand.

"Frank, please. You have to know what those keys mean to me. They are all I have left of her, Frank. All I have left of that day to remember her by. I know it just sounds like stupid sentimentalism to you but… They remind me of what I have to do to be the person I want to be. They're more than just a souvenir…" Joe swallowed painfully as his voice grew hoarse and he broke their gaze to stare at the ground. This wasn't a conversation he relished repeating.

Frank was looking upon him with empathetic eyes. When he spoke, Joe was grateful not to hear a judgmental tone, only one filled with surprising gentleness.

"You're right. I don't really understand your attachment to those keys. I probably never will. Personally, I've always tried as hard as possible to forget that day, not remember it. But…" Frank hesitated before continuing. "But I understand why you went back. I went after you for the same reason."

At this, Joe looked confused. Frank sighed and ran his left hand uncomfortably through his hair before explaining, his gaze focused somewhere over Joe's shoulder.

"I also have a reminder left from the day Iola died. Two, actually. Two things that remind me of how precious life is and how fragile. Those two reminders are you and Callie." Frank looked Joe directly in the eye and Joe was taken aback to notice tears in the corner of Frank's eyes. "You and Callie are all I have left of that day that mean anything to me. And you're more important to me than any melted piece of metal, Joe. So please… remember that the next time you want to risk your life for something like this. Just… remember what you would be taking away from me," Frank finished shakily, clearing his throat roughly.

Joe stared at Frank, unable to say anything or even think of anything to say. His eyes wondered down to Frank's tender right wrist, which he belatedly realized still had one handcuff dangling from it, and he winced in sympathy at the slight swelling and bruising that was already evident. He glanced at the door and noticed that the handle seemed to have been ripped clean off. Frank must have been desperate to get to him. Joe blinked back sudden tears as the meaning behind all of Frank's actions sunk in. His brother loved him fiercely, even if he would never directly admit it.

However, Joe wasn't so shy. He moved forward, mindful of Frank's injured wrist, and gently but firmly pulled his brother to him. He felt Frank tense and then wrap one arm around him in reply.

"I'm sorry. For everything. You're right, it was a cruel thing to do," Joe murmured into Frank's shoulder.

Frank patted Joe's back. "I know you didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry, too, for losing my temper and hitting you." Frank pulled back and scrutinized his brother's face, looking ashamed.

Joe shrugged off his brother's concern, not wanting to prolong the emotionally draining exchange.

"Ah, it's no big deal. You hit like a girl anyway. I mean, a slap? Really? I thought you were about to challenge me to a duel," Joe smirked.

Frank allowed him the out, probably equally grateful for the change in mood.

"Whatever. I bet you have a bruise tomorrow," Frank mock boasted.

"You wish." Joe looked at Frank's wrist. "Speaking of bruises, we should get you to a doctor."

"Yeah, well, I have a feeling that the whole county heard that explosion and the police – along with an ambulance – should be arriving shortly." Almost on cue, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.

"Good, they can take care of our friend here," Joe replied, nodding at the almost-forgotten Coleman who was beginning to show signs of consciousness.

"And you. You got hit pretty hard earlier," Frank reminded him with another twinge of conscience.

Joe shrugged. "Nah, barely notice it now." At Frank's pointed look, he wisely added, "But it probably wouldn't hurt to let them take a look."

The brothers leaned against the car side by side, watching the flames eat away at the old wooden building before them and waiting for the authorities to arrive, each mulling over their recent heart-to-heart discussion until Joe broke the silence.

"Hey, Frank? You realize that you just confessed your undying love for me, right?"

"… No, I didn't."

"You totally did, dude. It was epic."

"Shut up."

* * *

**AN: **Please review!

And thanks to Cheryl for inspiring me to do _something_!


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